


Love Stones

by ani_mage



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Harry, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Harry, Post-War, Trans Character, Voyeurism, eighth year, first person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 17:59:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5058343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ani_mage/pseuds/ani_mage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn’t realize that I can see him unwarding the small wooden box on his nightstand, that I can see him sliding glittering emeralds onto his ears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Stones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unranunculus](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=unranunculus).



> See the end of this work for more notes and other works inspired by this one.

I can’t reconcile the boy that I saw face the Dark Lord, the stalwart boy on the victory posters with the Harry Potter that I see before me. He’s taller than when we were last in school together—though still not as tall as I am—but he’s slender, willowy, delicate looking. Where my chest is broader and my thighs thick with muscle, he just seems to have lengthened. His body is one long arcing line with no sharp edges. He’s too pale, but his hair is grown out to his shoulders and looks soft. _Were his lips always this pink?_ I wonder. 

He doesn’t know that I’m watching him. It isn’t intentional. I might sneak glances during mealtimes or Potions, but I’m not obvious. Not like he was in sixth year. But this, now, isn’t like sneaking glances. He doesn’t realize that I’m behind my bed curtains in the dorm that we share with Macmillan and Longbottom. He doesn’t realize that I can see him unwarding the small wooden box on his nightstand, that I can see him sliding glittering emeralds onto his ears. He crosses the room to stand in front of the mirror in the corner, and his fingers unclasp the hook at the neck of his robes. I shouldn’t be watching this, I know that, but my hand moves to my cock, rubs.

His robe drops from his shoulders. I swear that my heart stops. He’s wearing some kind of silk slip; it’s a warm champagne colour that seems to bring out the pink in his skin, and delicate lace runs along the edges. He presses his hand—large, knobby knuckled—against his flat chest, grips the slippery fabric in his fist. The hand that’s not rubbing furiously at my cock clutches the bed curtains so hard that before I know it I’m leaning forward and then falling through. My knees smack hard against the stone floor, and I let out a low, guttural _fuck_.

Harry’s hands fly to the robe pooled at his feet, and he’s covering his body.

“Don’t do that,” I say, just as he says, “It’s not what it looks like…”

I extend a placating hand, feel a shooting pain in my right knee as I get up off the floor.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s not what it looks like,” he says again.

He’s trembling, and his naked arms are holding the robe tightly to his chest.

I take a step forward, and the movement seems to draw his eyes downward, to my still hard cock. He sucks in a breath.

“Oh,” he says. “You like it.”

It’s not a question, but the disbelief is clear in his voice so I answer him anyway.

“Yes,” I say. “You’re, gods, you’re beautiful.”

“Beautiful? Like a girl?”

I don’t know what the right answer is here. I hadn’t actually been thinking of him as a girl, but… 

“If that’s what you want,” I say.

He straightens his back, and I recognize the strength that I’ve always associated with him, the strength that’s plain to see in the victory posters and the _Prophet_ clippings I’ve collected over the years. He nods. 

“That’s what I want. Today, though, not always.”

She bites her bottom lip. I take another step closer.

“Er, do you think I could kiss you?” I say. I don’t know what the fuck’s come over me, but Harry is talking to me instead of hexing me so I figure I might as well take a shot. 

She turns her head back to the mirror, staring at her reflection. I’m not sure what she sees there, but she looks at me again, nods once.

She drops the robe.

**Author's Note:**

> A version of this drabble/ficlet was originally posted on my tumblr, ani-mage.tumblr.com. It was a part of a weekend writing challenge, for which readers of my blog submitted prompts. A reader requested a Harry/Draco story which contains the line "It's not what it looks like." See [the post on my blog](http://ani-mage.tumblr.com/post/130168494117/drabble-challenge-18) for extensive meta commentary about nonbinary Harry in the H/D ship.
> 
> This work inspired the most gorgeous piece of fanart by [unranunculus](http://unranunculus.tumblr.com). It was posted on her nsfw blog [rancognito](http://rancognito.tumblr.com).
> 
>    
> 


End file.
